


Gooball With a Gun

by FlamingPotatoArson



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Baby, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), F/M, First work - Freeform, Fluff, Gay Keith, Gen, Iverson Redemption Arc 2018, Keith is so fucking upset, Laith, Lance decides to prepare Earth for space war, Lance's family - Freeform, Langst, Leith - Freeform, M/M, My babies need to realize they are better together, Other, Professor!Lance, Space Dad Shiro (Voltron), They find him again later, and that a lion won't change that, and uses it to make science, and yes i said that, bi lance, blue still leaves lance sorry y'all, fluffy too, goofball with a gun, iverson becomes decent, klance, lance cuts everyone's hair
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-14 20:40:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13597956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FlamingPotatoArson/pseuds/FlamingPotatoArson
Summary: In which Lance gets rejected by two magical space lions, has questionable uses of Altean hair, and decides its time to let Earth in on the whole aliens are real secret. Team Voltron, on the other hand, has no idea, but decides a year is too long to have let Earth go without an alliance, now that they've got their bases secured and can't be detected, comes to visit, having mostly given up hope of ever finding Lance again.





	Gooball With a Gun

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first work off of Tumblr! I'm flaming-potato-arson at Tumblr and I'm excited to write here! We'll see how this goes, but I plan to put all of my fics up here so I can keep organized.

_“Hey Coran,” Lance snipped the scissors again, letting orange strands of hair fall to the floor which he’d soak and sweep later. Apparently, Altean hair was hellish to clean up. “How does Altean DNA work? You know, what retains it?” Coran gave a snort not unkindly, more like the question was a joke he hadn’t thought about for a long time. “Well, I assume it’s the same as for you humans. It’s in our hair, saliva, nails, and scales, though you don’t have that last one. Why do you ask, my boy?” The oddly plush, upholstered leather like chair creaked as his shoulders relaxed, mindlessly letting Lance cut his hair._

_“No reason. Just curious.” Lance said, catching a thicker strand of orange hair and putting the scissors down on the side counter. “There, perfection! As usual, my gorgeous man.” He slipped the hair in his jacket pocket, enthusiasm coating his words. Coran sprung from the chair, twirling his mustache and running a hand through the orderly strands at his nape. “Thank you! My boy, how do you do it?”_

_Lance smiled and laughed quietly. “I cut my family’s hair all the time. It’s no big, Coran.”_

_“Keith! It’s your turn! If you’re lucky, I won’t chop off that abomination you call hair!”_

* * *

 

This was it.  This was what started the end of the second generation of paladins. 

Not that Lance had played a very big or useful part to begin with. 

Sharpshooter? More like Goofball-With-A-Gun.

Lance scoffed softly, letting his fingers trail on the almost slippery, plastic like panels of the Castle walls as he walked, remembering when he was little and would get yelled at for doing this in the school hallways. Slipping his eyes close, he savors the feeling and visualizes the memories - little voices filling an old cafeteria, tiny shoes and jackets scattered on playful rugs, swinging joined hands against grass, cinnamon smelling snack times, tracing bulletin boards with his fingertips as he passed. The memories of his old elementary school, where he and all his siblings went after moving to America, the memories of home and of Valero Beach (though those two were nearly the same if not for the GPS), the memories of everything he was homesick for. 

He had always had two (near) inexplicable urges when he was in the Castle: one, to run his hand across the walls, and two, to curdle the homesick growing in his chest.

Only one of those was being solved in the Castle tonight.

Keith, Lance knew, deep, deep down, had curdled some kind of home sickness when he had gotten Shiro back. It shone in his eyes, the respite of being lonely. He had already made the semi-mistake, really more of a complication, by dumping his feelings and math to him that night, since he had planned to fix it his way. 

Heh. Emotions. Just when Lance thought he had a handle on everything, they threw him for a loop again. 

Lance sighed, stepping away from the wall, hand lingering behind like a lost child before it became too awkward and he withdrew, stuffing it in his pocket. 

17 and preparing to transfer wars. He was too young for this. But never mind, it was no matter.

He was leaving the Castle tonight. 

* * *

 

* * *

Cold metal stung his hand when he held on to the ledge of the door, tucking the bag of supplies into it’s compartment. His shoes squeaked against the landing pad in the silence, and he had the reflective urge to shush them. Straightening, Lance tucked his hair behind his ear and asked himself if this memory of the Castle was the one he wanted to be his last.  No, it was not, but it’d have to do.

He always wondered if “Castle” was the actual name of the spaceship he and the other paladins were on. Not that it mattered. He wouldn’t be on it for much longer.

Shiro would reconnect to Black easily, and Keith? He had always been the right hand man when it came down to it. Lance couldn’t be that for Shiro. Red wouldn’t accept him if Shiro piloted Black, and Keith wouldn’t want to. And Allura was literally born for the lions. She and Blue made so much progress, that Blue wouldn’t want him back.

Here he was, a paladin without a Lion. A man without a beast.

But a man with a home.

A home to protect. 

He swung up into the pod, and pulled the glass windshield shut like the trunk of a car. The sleeve of his jacket caught on the rung of the wheel he turned to get the door to lock, completely airtight. The pod smelled the same way the recycled air on the Castle did, and the temperature was just as lukewarm. He ran his fingers carefully over the buttons and switches on the roof of the pod, leaning forward to wipe the dust from the windshield. Dropping into the pilot’s seat, he placed a hand over his chest and closed his eyes.

Desolate loneliness chewed softly at his chest, the fledglings of what would eventually pour from him like a black river. It started out grey, soft, bittersweet pain that was regular, before turning darker, a newer shade of the crisis at hand. It’d roar, and burst, and then pour from him like blood. His heartbeat would become it’s staccato, drawing currents and running path through the river flowing down him. It beat under his fingertips, oddly calming as he stood at the crossroads. 

With his finger pushing a button, he took a step across the epicenter. 

(There was nothing else he could do.)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a the first chapter, and yeah, it's kinda short, but it sets up the story how I want so.... Yeah! Upsdates will be infrequent but I'll do my best!


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